Owned by Him (Editing)

Tell Me Why!

TW - Blood. Brutality. Abuse.

The recollection left me both exasperated and in tears. Jordan's facade had been so thorough, so full of fraudulent consideration, charm and love that I had overlooked all the shit he was putting me through. I was annoyed at myself for not walking away after that first real glimpse of him.

Wallowing in my own self-loathing, I rested my head down against the odorous mattress and tried to think of happier times, pre-Jordan.

I thought of home. I thought of how good of a homemaker my mum was, how the house was always so warm and smelt like those food-scented candles. Gingerbread had always been her favourite.

I remember how she had photographs of Andre and I everywhere, including the God-awful school photo taken of me on the first day of primary school. My hair was absolutely horrifying in that shot. It had been styled in a way that Dad liked to call "The Bowl Cut" but Mum had been ever so proud of her attempt at hairdressing her first four year old that the photo had a pride place on the mantelpiece for all to see. I never thought I would miss seeing that ghastly hairdo but fuck I really was.

The tears fell in a relentless stream, stinging my poor eyes and dampening the bandages. I just wanted to go home. I don't know how long I had been crying nor had I any clue as to how I had managed to fall asleep but sometime later, I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Coleson telling me to wake up.

"I've got the Oromorph to ease the pain," He explained softly whilst helping me into a seated position.

"Thank you, Sir," I murmured.

"When Jordan and the other lads aren't around, you don't need to call me "Sir". I detest it." Coleson explained as he rolled up the sleeve of the oversized shirt I had been changed into. I felt somewhat conflicted. I didn't want to offend Coleson and have him tell Jordan I had been disobedient nor did I want to disobey Jordan and get beat for it. It was safer for me to stay quiet.

"You're going to feel a slight prick in the crease of your arm but that's just the cannula, so don't worry okay?"

"What is a cannula, Sir?" I ask wearily.

"It's just a little tube that stays in your vein so I can administer fluids and pain meds for you." Coleson answered, wiping a cold wipe over the crease of my left arm. It couldn't possibly hurt more than what my body was already enduring so I rested my head against the wall and waited for the needle to penetrate my skin.

Once the cannula was taped and bandaged into place, Coleson flushed the tube through and attached me to an intravenous drip machine that would gradually administer Oromorph into me at a pace that wouldn't leave me too zoned out. "Thank you for tending to me, Sir." I say after he has changed the bandages around my eyes.

"There's no need to thank me. I don't deserve it at all."

"Yes you do." The words had left my mouth before I could have stopped them.

"Why do you say that? I am one of the men keeping you here," Coleson argues, making quite a valid point.

"That may be true but you are also the only one who has tried to help me and though I can't see you right now, I sense that you aren't exactly here of your own free will either."

Coleson didn't say anything to that, most likely because he wasn't allowed to but I felt his guilt ease a little.

"Has the pain started to ease at all?"

I know the question is a diversion so I go with it.

"Yes, I can mobilise a bit better now," I replied softly, trying to suppress the need to sob as the rope tied around my throat bit into my skin, reminding me that I did not have the basic human liberty to move.